Monster in the Mirror
by emebalia
Summary: Still coping with the aftermath of their last hunt Victor and the Winchesters get a call for help from the last person Victor wants to meet right now. Fifth and final part of the Victor'verse. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the fifth and final part of the Victor'verse and takes place immediately after the fourth part "Strangers in a Bar". This is a case fic and can stand alone but there are references to the other parts.

* * *

**Monster in the Mirror**

_Then_

After Special Agent Victor Henriksen had a literally front row seat to the Winchester brothers working a case, he quit the FBI to become a hunter. The Winchesters took him in to teach him the basics and take him on a few hunts till he would be capable to survive on his own. After the last hunt had gone south Victor had to deal with the death of a friend.

_Now_

"Cover your left." Dean shouted and that bastard wasn't even out of breath while Victor was already covered in sweat. Sluggishly he tried to get his hands up to block Dean's blows.

"Right!" Dean didn't gave him time to react and Victor gritted his teeth when the fist connected with his side. "Move your legs. That's it. C'mon!"

Victor tried his best and he had improved since they had started the sparring a while back. Not that he had been a newbie to fighting but the style they taught at the FBI was a little bit different from the marine style mixed with bar brawl moves and dirty street tricks the Winchesters used.

Dean landed a few more hits and then Victor kissed the floor. Or in this case the burned grass at some picnic place in the middle of nowhere.

"Ouch!" Sam made from his safe spot on one of the picnic tables. Even with the ringing in his ears Victor heard him grinning.

Slowly Victor came up to his feet and Dean grabbed his arm to prevent him from toppling over again.

"You okay?" Dean asked and patted his shoulder when Victor mumbled a "yes". It was getting late, the low sun cast long shadows over the abandoned picnic place.

"Enough for today." Dean decided and Victor didn't argue. He was beat and maybe it was enough to let him sleep this night. Nobody mentioned it but that was the main reason for the sparring. Okay, besides that he really could use the exercise.

Over the last month his and Sam's wounds had healed nicely, physically they were both in best form again, but mentally Victor still struggled with what had happened back then. And they all knew it.

At day Victor could avoid the memories and dark thoughts. There was so much to learn, so much to do, his mind was always busy. Even during long hours in the car he could keep himself occupied by discussing supernatural aspects with Sam or listen to Dean's stories or by just going over the things he had learned so far.

At night, however, he was alone with his thought. And sleeping he was vulnerable to the nightmares. He always had a room for himself but the Winchesters were only a thin wall away and he was pretty sure they knew about his nightmares.

The vampires he had killed, there faces were burned into his mind and at night they haunted him. Teenagers, foolish kids who thought it would be cool to become vampires. Romantic ideas in their heads and when they realized what they had become it had been too late. And at that point they hadn't even cared anymore.

He had chopped their heads off without mercy. He knew he had to do it but that didn't make him feel better.

And then there was Foster.

Victor wiped the sweat from his face and forced the thought of Foster deep down into the darkness of his mind. It wouldn't prevent it from coming back up, preferable in the middle of the night, but now he didn't want to deal with that.

Sam offered him a bottle of water which he gulped down between harsh breaths.

"You're getting better." Dean clapped his shoulder again sand snagged a bottle from Sam.

Victor nodded and enjoyed the blissful numbness of his mind. He had figured out that physical exhaustion did the trick for him. Between hunts, like now, sparring with Sam or Dean tired him out enough for him to hope for a dreamless night. Digging up a grave did wonders too and neither Winchester had argued with him about him doing all the hard work, he wondered why.

Getting drunk worked as well but that wasn't really an option in the long run and for the occasional sex he had to go through the trouble of picking up a girl and for that he wasn't often in the mood nowadays.

They packed up and got in the car. Dean behind the wheel, AD/DC blasting out of the speakers they drove till it was fully dark and then Dean stopped at a random diner for dinner.

Over the last few weeks Victor had gotten used to this nomadic lifestyle but sometimes he still missed his steady life. A place he could call home. After their last gig they hadn't found a new hunt yet so they drove aimlessly through the country. Driving wherever the road took them.

After dinner they drove for another hour or two till they stopped for the night. Sam got them two rooms and then Victor was alone. Through the wall he heard the low noises of the Winchesters settling in next door but he couldn't make out words. Sometimes he wondered if they talked about him – what they probably did – and what they thought of him. That vampire hunt had shaken him to the bones, they all knew that.

Alone in his room with the night creeping in, he was sometimes sure to wake up in the morning to find them gone.

He had killed their friend and he had no idea how they still took up with him after that. When they had agreed to take him along it had been clear it was only a temporarily arrangement and every night he now feared that this was the last night, that they were done with him now. But they were always still there in the morning and they never said a word about parting. And Victor was the last person who would mention that issue.

With a sigh Victor took a shower, got ready for bed and turned the lights off. The sparring earlier had left him exhausted and his whole body lay heavy and comfortable numb and it wasn't difficult this time to drift off to sleep.

He only woke up once in the middle of the night, sweat plastering his shirt to his heaving chest and a muffled "no" on his lips. After an unoriented second he recognized his home for the night and sank back to the pillow.

"You killed me." Fosters voice echoed through his mind and it took a while before Victor closed his eyes again. However, once a night meant a good night and he woke in the morning fresh and well rested.

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They didn't find a hunt the next day and some part of Victor – the masochistic part of his mind – kinda hoped the Winchesters would start their prank war once again just to keep his mind busy.

After another day of driving they found a nice motel in a not too bad town and decided to stick around for a day or two. Dean wanted do work on the car a bit – he said he'd heard some noises he didn't like which neither Sam nor Victor could hear – and Victor and Sam used the time to search local papers and the internet for hints of a hunt. And came up with nothing. It was like the whole supernatural world was on vacation or something.

The rest of the time they used for weapon maintenance and teach-the-rookie. The latter contained useful things like picking locks or hot-wire a car. And Victor had to admit tying Sam to a chair was kinda fun and a little bit payback but that bastard got out of the ropes with ease more often than not.

However, Victor started to hate the stopwatch. He could get out of the handcuffs behind his back or cut the ropes with the knife from his arm sheath and he could disassemble and put a gun together again in a good time, but against the clock? That always made it that much harder. He knew in case of an emergency he would have to do those things under much more pressure but it still sucked. It wasn't helping either that the Winchesters beat his time every single time. He was getting better, though, but they just had a lifetime of experience with this crap.

The evening they spent at a bar where they got a decent burger and a cold beer and Victor tried his first game of pool for money. He had practiced with Dean every chance they got but to play for real? With real money on the table?

Victor licked his lips and studied the table for a second.

"C'mon, old man. Not getting younger here." The other player teased. Some college kid younger than Sam with a bit too much alcohol in his system and way to much money in his pocket. Dean had helped Victor to get this kid to play and Victor knew he was a better player than that youngster. However, he was still nervous and it wasn't helping that Dean watched the game like a coach. He got the impression this game wouldn't be over after one of them had sunk the last ball. That would be the moment it really started. When Dean would started to analyze every shot, every mistake Victor had made.

Victor tried to shove that thought away and to concentrate on the shot he was about to make. In the end he won and took the money from the kid with a grin and he didn't feel too bad about it.

"Your head wasn't in the game." Dean said when they were back at their table. "You're lucky that guy couldn't play."

That dimmed Victor's euphoria but he was willing to listen when Dean went over the whole game and told him exactly where he had screwed up and which shot hadn't been half bad.

At the moment the Winchesters covered everything from gas over motel rooms to food and ammunition but very soon Victor would have to stand on his own feet, he knew that, and by then he better knew how to raise some cash.

After Dean had finished his lecture they enjoyed the rest of the evening with some beer and lighthearted chatter. At some point Dean trailed off to two girls in tight tops which were probably more fun around than Victor and Sam but they both didn't mind. Getting to know Sam better over the last few weeks Victor really enjoyed the younger man's company. Other kids his age were mostly just that, kids like the guy he had beaten at the pool table earlier. Sam, however, had more life experience at this age than most people didn't get their whole life and he was smart too.

Caught up in an interesting discussion Victor didn't even realize how time flew by. Not until Dean came back to toss his brother the keys to the Impala and told him with a wink not to wait up.

They left the bar not long after that and then Victor was once again alone in his motel room. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his guilt. He knew he never had a choice. Other than to get killed himself, that was. But that didn't stop those teenage vampires to haunt his dreams.

Maybe he should have drunk a little more and he pondered if he should get up and search for that bottle of Jack he was sure he had in his bag.

"Becoming an alcoholic isn't the best idea, Vic." He told himself and stayed in bed. When he let the memories come fully to the surface he could still feel Foster's lips on his wounded neck. Victor's fingertips traced the by now scarred area and in his mind Foster's last seconds played in an endless loop of slow motion. The surprised look in his friend's eyes when the machete had separated his head from the body. Victor liked to interpret relief and maybe forgiveness into that expression but he was pretty sure those emotions hadn't been there. At that point Foster had only wanted to feed and for certain hadn't wanted to die.

Long after midnight he fell into a restless sleep only to wake up to phone ringing an hour later. Apparently the Winchesters were heavier sleepers than Victor because it took a while till somebody in the next room got the phone.

"Who the hell is calling in the middle of the night?" Victor muttered before he drifted off to sleep again.


	2. Chapter 2

The Winchesters waited to tell Victor who had called till they were on the road again the next day. They had left the small town behind and were now on the open road, music playing at a low volume with Dean humming softly along while Sam and Victor were hanging on to their own thoughts. Victor had his journal on his lap, over the last weeks it had gotten thicker and thicker, filled with bits and pieces which may come in hand at some point. However, he stared sightless at the page and his mind was far away.

"Victor." Sam said using his full name and a tone that meant business. He turned half in his seat to face Victor who was sitting in the back seat as usual.

_That's it,_ Victor thought. _Now they gonna tell me to leave._

Maybe they would tolerate him around for day or two but then it would be: Good luck, see ya, try to not kill any other of our friends and get the fuck outa here.

Why they had waited until they were in the car and didn't just tell him at the motel where they could leave him behind without any trouble, he had no idea, but he knew what Sam was about to say.

Perhaps he should release Sam who was clearly searching for the right words and offer to leave himself. But before Victor could open his mouth the other man had found his words.

"Gerry called." Sam finally said and hold his breath.

Victor blinked. That was unexpected.

"Okay." He drew out the word. The icy fist in his guts was back. Foster had been a friend of the Winchesters but more important he had been Gerry's partner. After Victor had … after Foster's death she couldn't even look at him let alone talk to Victor and she had left immediately after the pyre.

"She asks for our help with a hunt." Sam continued after a second.

Oh. That made sense. They wanted to get rid of him before they met up with Gerry. Not that he could blame them. If the places were reversed he wouldn't want to see the man who had killed his partner ever again.

"Oh." He licked his dry lips. _This is it, time to stand on your own feet, Victor._ "Just drop me off somewhere." Actually he didn't care where, at the moment he couldn't think farther then the breakup with the Winchesters.

_Keep it together, Vic,_ he tried to steel himself. The Winchesters had made it clear, right from the beginning, that their arrangement was temporally, only long enough for Victor to learn the basics and not gotten killed by the first monster he'd encounter. Looked like they had reached that point. Victor sighed. He didn't feel ready.

"What?" Now it was Sam who blinked in surprise after the second he'd needed to process what Victor had said. "No, she wants all three of us." He paused. "If that's okay with you."

If it was okay with him? Victor stifled a laugh.

"I don't think she wants to see me right now." Or ever. Victor, for sure, wasn't ready to face that woman. How should he _ever_ face her again?

Until now Dean hadn't said a word, focused on driving, but Victor could feel Dean watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"She wants to see you." Dean said.

"Why?" To yell at him? To tell him that she hated him? That he should be dead instead of Foster? Those thoughts were running through his head constantly since he had swung that machete. He didn't need her to remind him of his guilt.

Maybe it was about her. Maybe she needed that. Needed to yell at him, needed to throw her hate at him.

"Okay." Victor said without giving the Winchesters a chance to answer his previous question. They both seemed to be at a loss for that one, anyway.

_Maybe Gerry wants revenge,_ a small voice in his mind whispered. _Maybe she wants to swing the machete this time._

Victor couldn't blame her. He deserved it. He deserved her hate and for sure he deserved her revenge.

"Don't worry, she won't bite." Sam tried to lighten the mood and Victor appreciated that but it didn't work on him. "She needed some time to cope, I think, but she's fine now." Sam carried on.

"And you think seeing me will help her with that?" The words came out harder than he'd intended. "I'm the one who …" He couldn't even put it in words.

"You didn't have a choice." Dean said and via the rear view mirror their eyes met. "You did what you had to do and you saved her from doing it. That would have really sucked."

They had told him that before. That he had saved Foster the only way he could be saved at that point. That it had to be done and Victor wasn't to blame for this. Maybe if he told himself that often enough he would believe it someday. Over the day he could shove the dark thoughts away most of the time but in moments like this or when he was alone in the darkness of the night he knew it had been his fault. And the guilt was eating at him.

"I think it's actually good for you to see Gerry again." Sam filled the uncomfortable silence in the car. Even the Metallica song came in a low tune out of the speaker and it only emphasized the stillness in the car.

"Thanks, Dr Phil." Victor bit back. Who thought Sam that he was? Some kind of shrink? So yes, Victor still had nightmares but he was dealing.

Victor sighed. "Did she say what she's hunting?" He changed the subject and with a glare dared Sam to bring the other topic up again. He didn't.

"She's not exactly sure." Sam said after he had exchanged one of those looks with his brother. "But she thinks it could be some kind of shapeshifter."

"Shapeshifter?" Victor tried to remember what he knew about those. An eternity back in the wee hours of the night while a freshly stitched up Sam had slept in the other bed and Victor had been handcuffed to his one, Dean had told him about shapeshifters in St. Louis and Milwaukee.

Back then Dean hadn't gone into detail, just recapped the events in words a nosy civilian could understand. A civilian who had only just admitted the possibility of supernatural creatures out there.

A sad smile ghosted over Victor's lips. Somewhere in the depths of his bag Victor still had that piece of a claw which Dean had dug out of his brother's side. That little thing which had opened a whole new world to him. He wanted to make some kind of necklace out of it but he hadn't gotten around to doing that. Perhaps he should do that soon, he felt like he'd need an anchor to ground him in the near future. Making up his mind he came back to the matter at hand. Shapeshifters and what he knew about them. Not much, he had to admit.

Shapeshifters could change their outward appearance to pretend to be another person and they could be killed with silver through the heart and that was all Victor knew about this kind of supernatural monster. Since he was a hunter in training that topic hadn't come up yet and he had so many other things on his mind so he hadn't asked until now.

"Nasty fuckers." Was Dean's comment on that topic and he left the details to his brother. Sam called Gerry to tell her that they were on their way and after that he explained the world of shifting things to Victor.

Apparently there were monsters out there who could change into animals – werewolves, skinwalkers and things like that – or monsters who could change into other persons – mainly shapeshifters. Some were tied to the lunar cycle or other natural cycles, others could change at will. Some knew about their condition, some didn't – those were hard to track –, some kept their mind while in the other form, some lost themselves in the animal mind.

Once Sam started talking the words bubbled out of his mouth. He brought up examples from around the world which were interesting but not exactly helpful now. Victor doubted that he could recall half of the information later and Sam didn't stop. He seemed happy to have a willing victim who didn't tell him to shut up like his brother would, Victor suspected.

While Victor drowned in the flood of information Dean had a knowingly grin on his face and he made sure that Victor noticed. That bastard. And Sam kept talking.

"Gerry's pretty sure we are dealing with a shapeshifter, the same kind we ran into before at St. Louis and in that bank."

Victor was familiar with those cases, he'd worked them while he had been with the FBI. In Milwaukee he had even been there but it hadn't been till much later that he learned about what had really happened back then.

"So this thing can pretend to be one of us?" Victor asked when Sam had to stop to take a breath.

It was Dean who answered. "They can be whoever they want to be."

"On camera their eyes give them away." Sam continued. "And their skin is somewhat spongy, it can be ripped off pretty easily."

Nasty, Victor shuddered, but that explained the skinned arm of that dead woman in the bank.

"How do we make sure that the shifter doesn't copy one of us?" Thinking of it he wasn't sure if he could tell the original Sam or Dean apart from the copy. He was pretty sure Dean would recognize his Sam under million copies and vice versa but Victor would have no idea.

"We can't." Dean shrugged. "We can use cameras, though." Unsure he glanced at his brother who gave him thoughtful nod.

"What about a code word?" That would make things easier.

Sam shook his head. "As long as the person they copy is alive they download the memories. Over time the shifter becomes the person he is pretending to be. Down to every memory, expression, gesture, everything. So no, code words won't work."

"That sucks." Was all Victor could think of. How were they supposed to find it? It could be literally everybody.

"Like I said." Dean grinned at him. "Nasty fuckers."

They didn't stop for the night. Sam and Dean took turns in driving while the other one slept in the passenger seat. It didn't look comfortable but they both seemed to have figured out a way to sleep in the car without needing a chiropractor afterward. Victor didn't offer to drive – he knew better than that – but he did offer his place in the back seat where they at least could stretch out more or less, both Winchesters weren't exactly small, but only Sam took him up for that once for an hour or two.

Victor himself slept only a few hours at most. The car wasn't build for sleeping, however, he mainly feared to have a nightmare. Which was fine if he was alone in his motel room but in close quarters with the Winchesters? They couldn't continue to pretend to don't know if he woke up screaming next to them.

Knowing that he would meet Gerry soon would only made his dreams more vivid and he honestly pondered if he should bail. Maybe that had been the reason the Winchesters had waited to tell him. He wasn't desperate enough to jump out of a moving car. By their first stop after that conversation he had calmed down enough to not run for the hills and by night he had decided to stand this confrontation. He doubted it would do him any good but maybe it would do the trick for Gerry. If she needed this he would give it to her. It was the least he could do.


	3. Chapter 3

Late the next day Dean pulled up in front of the diner where they wanted to meet Gerry. As far as Victor could tell they were in a nice little town with a lot of white picked fences and young families which gave the area an alive vibe. Victor wondered which kind of industry had turned this little town into a growing place.

Thinking about the town Victor could avoid to acknowledge the truck parking three cars over for a few seconds longer. Gerry's truck. Even over the distance he recognized that one.

Victor followed the Winchesters out of the car and across the way too small parking lot – it had plenty of free lots, though, but Victor would have liked it to be endless – and then he let himself get swallowed by the looming building. He looked around and when at first he didn't spot the familiar form of the woman with the tank top and the trucker cap, Victor sighed in relief. Which was short lived, he knew that, Gerry's truck stood right outside so she had to be around here somewhere.

Apparently they were right in time for the busy dinner time, every table was occupied and a stressed looking waitress told Sam they'd to wait for a table. Others were waiting, too, mostly young folk in sporty clothes after a day in the office. The Winchesters stood out like sore thumps and Victor missed his suit. He had come to enjoy the non-formal dress code of jeans and shirts his new job aloud – he refused to wear as much flannel and layers as the Winchesters, though – but here he felt like a homeless guy. Thinking about it, he actually was homeless, however, it usually didn't feel like that.

They found Gerry in the far corner, back to the wall so that she had the whole place in view. She had a four seated booth for herself and with that grim expression on her face nobody dared to approach her. She acknowledged their presence with a sharp nod and by holding each of their gazes for a second. Victor did his best to not squirm.

"Hey, Gerry." Dean said with a grin and slid in the seat next to her. Victor let Sam go first so that the younger man sat face to face with Gerry which left Victor the seat opposite to Dean. He could live with that.

"Hey." Gerry answered the greeting and fiddled with the cup of coffee in front of her. The waitress brought more coffee for all of them and the menus which saved them from a real conversation for a few more minutes. In a crowded place like this Victor doubted Gerry would start yelling at him but you never knew, right?

Holding her head low the cap hid most of her face and Victor could only guess what Gerry was thinking.

Till their meals arrived they talked about nothing in particular. How the drive had been, the weather and for some reason a TV show the Winchesters had watched the other night. Victor kept his mouth shut and did a pretty good job at pretending that he wasn't actually there.

When the food arrived the conversation died down for a while.

"So, what do you got?" It was Sam who brought them back to business.

Gerry's eyes flickered to Victor before they settled on Sam.

"Two weeks ago Arthur Brown came home early from a business trip." She took a sip from her coffee while she waited for the waitress to pass. Some things weren't for everybody's ears. "Found his wife with an other man in bed."

"Ups." Dean made and didn't bother to hide his smug grin.

"Things got ugly and then Arthur Brown was dead and the other man escaped into the night." Gerry wrapped the story up.

"That was the shapeshifter?" Sam asked.

Gerry hadn't called them for a regular marital tragedy and she had mentioned a shapeshifter earlier.

"Yep." Gerry clicked her tongue. "Julia, that's the wife, swears up and down the man she had slept with had been her husband. And then suddenly there were two of them and they were fighting and then one of them was dead and the other one on the run. Autopsy says the dead guy is the real Arthur Brown. I had a look, it's not our shifter in the morgue."

"That's …" Dean was at a loss for words. "That's just sick."

"Oh, it's getting better." Gerry fleshed him a wolfish grin. "This is the first death and I think it really was an accident, but I found a couple of divorces and breakups in this area following the same pattern. He accuses her of cheating and she says that he stole all of their money. She is always in her late twenties and brunette, by the way."

Victor thought about the information for a second. That wasn't exactly what he'd expected when Sam had told him about shapeshifters.

"So we have a serial rapist." Victor spoke without thinking, just summing up the facts. "Who poses as the husband, lover, whatever when said man isn't home. He sleeps with the women and then raids their bank account before he disappears to leave the couple to sort out the mess."

The others looked at Victor and nobody said a word. If he'd wanted to Victor could have cut the tension with his knife. And it wasn't about the case, this was a personal thing mostly between Gerry and him but the Winchesters had to feel the tension, too.

Gerry locked eyes with him.

"That's correct." Her expression was unreadable but if Victor had to label it, he'd say appreciation? Not the hatred he had expected, though.

They finished their meal and then agreed to continue their conversation at the motel Gerry had picked where they could talk freely about the rapist doppelganger. And wasn't that the weirdest thought Victor ever had?

The whole time Gerry hadn't spoken more than two words directly to Victor, most of the time she had avoided to even look in his direction so it took Victor really by surprise when Gerry asked on their way out of the diner: "Wanna ride with me?"

Victor's mouth went dry. He wanted to say _no_, he wanted to run and hide in the back seat of the Impala with both the Winchesters' large frames as a bulkhead between him and this woman. The last thing he wanted to do is to separate himself from the safety the Winchesters offered and to climb in that truck to face Gerry alone. He wasn't sure if he would get out of there alive. He wasn't sure if he deserved to get out of that truck alive and that was the reason why he nodded and followed Gerry outside. He climbed in and with a thud of doom the door closed, echoed by a similar sound from the driver's side.

Gerry started the engine and eased the truck out on the road and in the mirror Victor spotted the Impala right behind them. Driving in silence for a while Gerry lead the way.

"I wanted to thank you." She finally spoke. Her eyes fixed on the road and her voice so low Victor had to strain his ears to understand the words.

"For what?" He blurred out. This was the point where the yelling should start, maybe a knife between his rips. With a white knuckled grip and tight lips she stared straight forward.

"You did what had to be done." She answered but left open if she appreciated it or not. Victor would go for not.

"Gerry." He had to clear his throat. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm the last person you want to see right now, I understand that." He paused searching for the right words. As if there were right words for this kind of situation. He had killed her partner, there were no words for that.

"When Sam told me that you called I offered to stay back." He said and watched the muscles in her jaw working. "I can still leave."

"No." Just one word but it sounded so exhausted, so tired, it broke his heart. Yeah, Victor hadn't been sleeping more than a few hours at a time for weeks now, guilt and nightmares keeping him awake, but he couldn't even start to imagine how it had to be for Gerry. She and Foster had been a team for years. They had hunted together, had watched each other's backs, had patched each other up and probably had shared more life and death experiences than a sane person could tolerate. And with one swing of a machete Victor had ended it all.

"No." She repeated in a softer tone. "When I left I was angry and blind with grief and I just wanted to kill something, preferable you." She added the last words with a sad smile. "But that wasn't fair. It hasn't been your fault Foster got turned but it's to your credit that he didn't die as a killer."

The same thing both Winchesters had told him several times and in the daylight he could see the truth in them but that didn't help to keep away the guilt at night. Foster's blood – vampire or human – was on his hands, there was no doubt about that.

"Don't." Gerry looked him in the eye and he wondered what she expected to see and what she actually read there. "Don't beat yourself up over this, just don't."

"Thanks." Was all he managed to say.

The rest of the drive went by in silence but it was a comfortable one. The air seemed lighter and for some reason Victor could breathe more easily.

"They are out of single rooms." Gerry said out of the blue when they arrived at the rundown motel.

"Are you offering a bed?" Victor replied with amusement.

"One room is cheaper than two." She shrugged. "And it would be idiotic to have two beds more than we need just to save your dignity."

An eternity back Victor had asked Foster if he and Gerry were a couple hence the shared room and the other man had given a very similar explanation.

"Why not?" Victor tried to be casual about this but pondered if he could ask one of the Winchesters to share with Gerry. Probably not.

The Winchesters got their own room and if Dean muttered something under his breath about Victor and Gerry being an odd couple, Victor pretended to not hear it. Gerry wasn't that civilized.

"Watch your tone, boy." She smacked the back of his head which earned her a gleeful grin from Sam.

"Yes, ma'am." Dean hurried to carry his bag inside and out of reach of the evil woman. A little slower Victor got his own bag and followed Gerry to their room a few doors down.

By now Victor was used to this kind of motel room and he didn't bat an eye at the sight of shit brown walls – nowadays this color would be sold under a fancy coffee themed name and it would still look like shit – combined with a puke green carpet and curtains with faded floral prints.

The bed next to the door had been slept in and the other one had been used for storing everything from clothes over notes and papers to all kinds of weapons.

"I'll get that." Without ceremony Gerry shoved everything in one bag and flattened the ruffled covers. "Good as new. You don't mind some gun oil, don't you?" She tried to wipe something off but then left it with a shrug.

"It's okay." Victor hurried to say and dropped his bag on the bed. They had come to an unstable truce and he didn't want to make things bad over something trivial like this. At least this time he knew what that strain was.

He put a few things in the bathroom where they only had Gerry's toothbrush, toothpaste, a bottle of shampoo and some soap for company. For a woman she really traveled light. The women Victor knew would need much more things to get presentable in the morning. Maybe he knew the wrong kind.

That done he was set for the moment. No point in putting things in the closet for the few days they'd stay here.

So he watched Gerry who was sorting through the mess she had made a minute ago. A gun went under her pillow and she tucked a knife between the mattress and the frame of the bed.

"Afraid I'll molest you in your sleep?" He joked but it was half-hearted. He knew this woman for what? Two days? And in that time he'd managed to kill her partner. She'd said otherwise but he should consider himself lucky if he didn't wake up in the morning with his throat cut.

She just glared at him with a glint in her eye that told him _Bring it on_.

"Let's see if the ladies are decent." Gerry grabbed her notes and headed to the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerry had put together a pretty good file and Victor started to wonder why she had asked for help with this. When she drew out a map of the sewer system of the area he knew the answer to that one.

"I think I could narrow it down to this area." She made a wide gesture over the map.

"You have to be kidding me." Dean muttered. "That's miles and miles of tunnels."

"And that's only assuming that he sticks to tradition and has a lair down there." Gerry nodded with a grim smile. "If he has a nice house with a white picked fence and all that crap we're screwed."

"I get that he's mostly after the women." Victor spoke up. "But he also steals all their money, he wouldn't need that much money if he just lives in the sewers. Bet the rent isn't that high down there."

"I don't know." Sam turned the map to have a better look. "The shapeshifter we came across in Milwaukee robbed jewelers and banks but still used the sewers to get around."

"So tomorrow is sewer crawling day." Dean leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Awesome."

They went over the details of the case for the next hour but they all had to agree their best chance to find this sucker was by searching the sewers.

"Too bad you're too old to play bait." Dean teased and ducked the pencil Gerry was throwing at him.

"I have the wrong hair color." She claimed and gathered her notes. "Okay ladies, time for bed."

With an unison "Yes, ma'am." the Winchesters agreed and Victor left with Gerry.

In the bathroom Victor changed into t-shirt and sweatpants. Ready for bed he entered the main room just in time to watch Gerry putting on a wide t-shirt. From this angle he could only see her back but he really should turn around to give her some privacy. However, the map of old and new scars on her torso made it hard to look away.

Victor had seen both Winchesters half-naked by now and they had a lot of scars telling stories from old hunts but this was different. Victor didn't know for how long Gerry had been in the hunting business and what had changed her life that drastically in the first place but judging by her battered body it had been a long time ago.

"See something you like?" She looked at him over her shoulder and pulled the fabric down to her waist.

Victor cleared his throat. "Bet you don't like rainy days with all that scars." He didn't know this woman very well but by now he'd figured out the direct way was the best way to deal with her.

"Don't need the weatherman to tell me the weather's changing." She replied and slid under the covers of her bed which left Victor to turn the lights off.

Moments later he lay in the dark with a woman only an arm's length away and he wasn't sure what to think of it. If she had a problem with him being there she didn't show it.

Even after the long drive and the almost sleepless night in the car Victor wasn't actually tired. Laying on his back he stared into the darkness above him. Through the window some light from the parking lot shone in but that was only enough to deepen the shadows. What if he had a nightmare? It had been okay as long as he had a room for himself but he hadn't liked the idea to have one in the car with the Winchesters around and for sure he didn't want to wake up with a scream while Gerry was right next to him. Hopefully already asleep.

The moment of when he had chopped Foster's head off played in his mind. An endless loop in slow motion. Victor closed his eyes but that only made it worse. Now the teenage vampires were there, too.

"Stop thinking, I wanna sleep." Gerry suddenly said from the other bed.

"Sorry."

There was a sigh and some rustle and then Victor could make out her silhouette against the window. Propped up on one elbow she was watching him. Or watching the dark shadow where she had to presume he was laying.

"Nightmares?" She asked.

"It's stuck in my head." He answered after a long pause. "Every time I close my eyes …" He stalled. Why was he telling her that? She had enough to deal with without his crap.

"Nothing to be ashamed of. We all have things that won't leave us alone, faces that haunt us even after years." With her fingertips she brushed through her hair.

"Haven't seen Sam or Dean having nightmares." Victor said and at the same second he remembered that wasn't true. He had seen Sam having a nightmare. And Dean knew at bit to well about coping mechanisms to not use them himself.

"Or you." Victor added despite the fact that this was the first night he saw her sleeping. Would see her sleeping. Assuming they would get some sleep tonight.

"There was this little girl." Gerry said and in the dim light her eyes glittered. "Don't know, she had to be six or seven when she'd died. Never found out who she really was." She lay back with one hand under her head but she kept talking. "She got lost in the woods and died. Of dehydration or she had been injured, I don't know. She died there alone and frightened and she only wanted for somebody to come and save her. You could hear her crying but everybody who followed that sound ended up dead."

She sounded composed but Victor was glad he couldn't see her face.

"Anyway, I found her bones and was about to lit her up when she appeared. She begged me not to hurt her, to bring her back to Mommy and Daddy." She turned her head and looked straight at Victor. Even in the dark he felt her burning gaze. "Ever heard a little girl begging you not to kill her?"

"No." He brought out barely a whisper.

"This job sucks." She said in a hard tone. "We've to do a lot of nasty crap and we're all alone in this shit. So we've some sleepless nights, so what? We deal with it and let the next nasty fucker bleed for it. You did the right thing, that's all that counts."

She fell silent and Victor nodded slowly. He lay back again and made himself comfortable and he slept without nightmares this time.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

According to Gerry's information the sewer entrance she lead them to the next morning was a good place to start their search. Nobody was looking forward to a day of crawling through tight stinky tunnels – which Dean had mentioned once or twice or maybe one or two hundred times before – but nevertheless here they stood in what looked like one of the lager rooms and checked their gear one last time. The smell was already overwhelming and they hadn't even left the small spot of sunlight shining through the manhole above them.

"Okay Vic and I check out this direction and you two go there." Sam gestured with his flashlight.

"Who made you the boss?" Dean shot back, visibly not okay with that solution.

"Hey." Sam spread his arms as wide as he could in this narrow shithole. "I want to get done with this and not listening to you bitching around for the next hours."

To that Dean didn't know what to say and Gerry nodded in agreement and with that it was settled. On the inside Victor sighed in relief. He had been sure the Winchesters would stick together which would left him with Gerry and he still didn't feel that comfortable in her company.

"We won't get reception down here." Gerry pointed out. "So let's meet up here in an hour." Together with Sam she had spent the time over breakfast with the map and they had plotted a search strategy. Now she pointed at an intersection both teams could reach in that time.

Still not pleased with his brother leaving without him Dean opened his mouth but Sam cut him of by nodding Victor to follow him and started walking.

"Fine." Dean yelled behind him along with a stream of profanities which made Sam chuckle.

Victor, however, didn't chuckle. Usually Sam let Dean lead the way and it was kinda odd that he took the initiative like this.

A very unpleasant "what if" formed in Victor's mind and he felt the weight of his gun in his waistband heavy like lead.

"What?" With an amused expression Sam pointed the beam of his flashlight right at Victor.

"I'm just a little surprised that you don't want to team up with Dean." He tried to keep a casual tone and wondered how quickly he could get the gun out.

"It's best this way." Sam turned the light to the tunnel ahead. "Dean worries too much about me and he feels kinda responsible for you. If he was with me he would worry about you and always questioning himself if it had been the right decision or if he better had stuck with you. And the other way around." Sam shrugged as if that was the most obvious explanation. "He's with Gerry now so he'll be busy enough not pissing her off to worry too much."

"Okay." As if that made any sense at all. In the twisted relationship the Winchesters had it probably did.

The next hour was the most stinky one Victor had ever had. He doubted a shower would be enough to get clean again. Maybe some acid would to the trick. The thick air clocked his airways and he tasted the foul wetness deep in his throat. His skin crawled and he tried not to think about what nasty stuff waited just outside that lonely beams of their flashlights. What he saw was already more than enough, thank you very much.

Without finding anything of interest they reached the intersection a few minutes early.

"What's keeping them?" Sam started pacing the second the hour was over. No sign of Dean or Gerry and even with his ears strained Victor didn't hear a sound out of the tunnel they were supposed to come out. Nothing besides the dripping and gargling of the water and the faint squeaking of some rats.

Then he saw a light from around the corner and heard footsteps.

"Sam?" Came the unmistakable worried big brother voice out of the dark.

"We're here." Sam answered and waved his flashlight.

Seconds later Dean joined them.

"You okay?" He looked Sam up and down searching for injuries or a missing limb or whatever. Victor couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"We are fine, Dean." Sam reassured him and shone with his light into the tunnel behind his brother. "Where's Gerry?"

Focused on Dean Victor hadn't noticed that the woman wasn't with him. Panic raised in Victor's mind, the memory of Sam getting abducted by vampires was way too fresh.

"Relax." Dean waved their concerns off. "We found something." He turned, clearly expecting them to follow him.

"Dude, we shouldn't split up." Sam hissed but followed his brother.

"It's right around the corner. Gerry makes sure the fucker doesn't sneak by." Dean assured them but sped up a little.

Right around the corner turned out to be a walk of several minutes and by then Victor had lost every sense of direction. There was a shallow stream in the middle of the tunnel and the small catwalk at the side was covered with something slimy. Victor managed to balance over it with only getting one shoe wet till he made the wrong step and landed face first in the sewage.

Spitting and cursing he came up again while Dean cracked up laughing. Sam couldn't hide a grin either, that bastard.

"Thanks, man." Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I needed that."

"Ha, ha, very funny." Victor muttered and tried to get the water out of his eyes and nose with questionable success.

"Here you lost this." Dean handed him his gun. It looked dry at least. With a muttered thanks Victor tucked it back in the back of his jeans. Could this get more embarrassing? Heat was burning in his cheeks and he was glad when Dean turned and headed farther down the tunnel. But Victor knew there would be some jokes in his near future.

"There." Dean pointed at a hole in the wall. This part of the sewers was rather old and the walls were brick-built and some of the bricks stood out like teeth around the tight passage. When Victor squeezed through he left some skin behind, this wasn't build for tall men. Sam nearly got stuck but with cursing and his brother tucking at him he finally popped through.

"Gerry?" Dean looked around the small room. This was not part of the sewers, Victor noticed, it looked more like some kind of basement. Half rotten barrels and some old wooden boxes filled half the room but no sign of Gerry.

"Shit." Sam stepped farther into the room and picked something up. Gerry's flashlight.


	5. Chapter 5

"I told you not to split up." Sam muttered in his brother's direction without looking at him.

"She can't be far." There was only one door and Dean tried the doorknob. To Victor's surprise the door swung open without a sound.

Well oiled hinges, he guessed. This door was in use fairly often it looked like.

Using only hand signals to communicate they stepped out to the corridor and checked the next rooms. More mud and cobwebs and rotten stuff, the air was slightly better in here but that was it. No sign of Gerry or the shifter.

At the end of the hallway a staircase lead to the upper floor. As silent as three heavy men on an old wooden staircase could be they made their way upstairs. Dean opened the door at the top and peeked through the crack before he gave the all clear signal.

They stood in a kitchen flooded with bright sunlight. After hours in the dark Victor had to blink against the sudden brightness and lost track of the Winchesters for a moment.

He caught up with them in the living room and for a second he thought he was dreaming. Seconds ago they had been on a rescue mission for Gerry and now Sam and Dean were fighting. In grim silence they tried to kill each other.

Under the table Victor saw a gun but he had no idea if it was Sam's or Dean's. He had his own gun in hand without a second thought but who to shoot?

Over the last weeks Victor had practiced hand to hand with both of them but seeing the brothers now he knew they had been gentle with him. Flying fists and kicking legs, it looked like right out of an awesome martial arts movie. They blocked blows and landed punches while either of them tried to get his hand on a gun or a knife.

"Vic, shoot him!" Sam yelled and Dean landed an upper cut under Sam's chin. Sam stumbled back but got his bearings and ducked the next blow.

"No, he's the shifter!" Dean bellowed not wasting his breath with more words. And Victor stood there and still had no idea who to shoot. He'd thought it would be difficult to tell apart one Sam or Dean from their evil twins, but this?

Apparently both of them came to the conclusion that Victor wouldn't shoot either of them any time soon and they focused on killing each other again.

At one point Dean had a knife in his hand but he only managed to slice a cushion on the couch before Sam kicked it out of his fingers.

Sam stumbled backwards and tripped over a giant vase. On his way down he hit his brother in the groin. Groaning in pain they both went down but kept fighting on the floor.

Dean on top he pummeled a clearly loosing Sam and Victor still wasn't sure if this was good or bad. In weak defense Sam clawed at his brother's throat and ripped off a patch of skin.

Victor didn't hesitate and emptied his clip into the thing that looked like Dean. He perforated the thing's torso and one or two bullets had to penetrate the heart but that thing just landed one more punch in Sam's face, scooped up the gun from under the table and then slowly stood up.

"Vic, Vic, Vic." It mocked him. Blood and bruises covered its face, its lip was split and that missing skin on its neck just looked wrong. And that without counting the bullet holes in its chest. The Dean-thing raised the gun with a smug grin that looked so much like Dean.

"This is the last lesson you'll ever learn." That thing said while Victor threw the gun away and went for the knife he had on him.

Bringing a knife to a gunfight, he thought. What a way to die.

He tried to focus on the thing that was not Dean but the muzzle of the gun suddenly seemed bigger than the Grand Canyon.

"Always check yourself that you still have the right bullets in your gun after somebody else had it in his hands." Its grin grew wider.

A shot. And another one.

You are not supposed to hear the shot that kills you, Victor thought randomly. He waited for the pain but felt rather numb.

The not Dean thing stared at something to Victor's left, its lips moving but no word came over its lips. The gun dropped from its fingers and then it turned and ran.

"Son of a bitch." Suddenly the real Dean was beside Victor a smoking gun in his hand and blood thirst on his face. For some reason he was only wearing his underwear and Gerry's jacket over his bare chest which was way too small for him.

He fired two more shots but the shifter was already out of the room and Victor heard a car leaving in a hurry.

Dammit, they had him.

"Sammy?" With the threat gone Dean was at his brother's side in a heartbeat.

"He alright?" Gerry asked in Dean's direction but her gaze was on Victor.

"He'll live." Dean patted his brother's face. "C'mon Sammy, no sleeping on the job."

With a groan Sam struggled back to consciousness but flinched at the sight of Dean's face looming over him.

"It's just me." Dean said in a gentle tone and Sam visibly relaxed. How he knew it was really Dean and not the shifter was beyond Victor. But he had no idea how Sam had figured out that Dean wasn't Dean in the first place, either.

"What kept you so long?" Sam whispered and then turned to his side to spit out some blood.

"Had been a little tied up with something." Dean replied easily but now Victor noticed the marks on his wrists and ankles, rope burns.

"That bastard got a drop on us." Gerry confessed through gritted teeth. "Looks like we weren't the only ones, though."

While Dean helped Sam to stood up Victor and Gerry searched the rest of the house. Not really thoroughly, however, they had to look for clues telling them where the shifter might went. They didn't find any but they found some pants which fit Dean more or less. It was enough to leave the house without drawing too much attention and they had to leave quickly. Somebody for sure had heard the gunshots and the police was on the way. They ducked out of sight just in time.

Sirens and flashing lights behind them they made their long walk back to the cars.

Back at the motel Victor helped Dean to bring Sam in while Gerry got the door open and the bags out of the way so that they wouldn't stumble over the Winchesters' dirty clothes. Sam tried to work his legs but he hung heavy between Victor and his brother. From previous sparring sessions Victor knew the punches both Winchesters could deal out and then they hadn't tried to kill him. The fake Dean had landed some good blows. But Sam had stood his ground, too.

"I got it from here." Dean said as soon as they had settled Sam on the bed and he practically threw them out of the room.

Gerry and Victor were both wet and filthy from the hours in the sewers and so the run to the shower begun. Gerry won with a "Ladies first." and shut the door right in Victor's face.

"Lady." He snorted. "Since when?" He didn't want to soil more of their things than necessary which meant he stood in the middle of the room and waited patiently till Gerry came out of the bathroom.

"Don't pout." She ruffled her hair with a towel and had another on tucked around her body. "I left you some hot water." When she threw both towels on the bed Victor made a dash for the bathroom.

Gerry had left her dirty clothes in the corner and Victor added his to the pile. He'd decide later if they were worth saving or if he just should burn them.

The water turned cold in the middle of his shower but the refused to get out before he felt clean again. When his skin tingled from the cold and the foam from the soap was white and no longer grayish he turned the water off and only then noticed that he did the same mistake as Gerry. All his clean clothes were in the main room.

Cursing under his breath he grabbed the towel tight around his waist before he entered the room.

Occupied with the first aid kit in front of her Gerry didn't look up and Victor hurried to get some clothes on.

"When you're done." She said with a knowing smile on her face. "You could help me here."

She had disinfected the rope burns on her wrists and was now probing the back of her head with her fingertips.

"Tell me it doesn't need stitches." She said and parted her hair to allow him access to the wound beneath. How the hell should he know? He wasn't a doctor.

Victor swallowed thickly, the last thing he wanted to do was to put stitches into her head. Maybe he should ask Dean to do it. Victor stepped closer and had a look. The goose egg had stopped bleeding and it didn't look as bad as he had feared.

"Don't think it needs stitches." He decided. "What happened?"

She put the stuff back in the kit and stood up. For a second she reeled like a sailor on shore but she pulled herself together.

"We should move over to the Winchesters' room and share our stories." She headed towards the door. "No point in telling it more than once."

Victor wasn't keen on telling the story of his complete failure but he was kinda curious what had happened to Dean and Gerry.

Dean opened after the second knock and let them in. However, he had his phone in hand and checked their eyes with the camera before he let go of the gun in his other hand. After they had made sure that Dean was really Dean and the battered body on the bed was really Sam – Dean had to lift his brother's eyelid for that test and Sam didn't even stir – they sat down.

"He should be out for a while." Dean said with a nod in Sam's direction.

"Something serious?" Gerry asked.

"Nah." Dean made with a wave of his hand. "Nasty bruises, mainly on his ego, sore rips and a twisted wrist as far as I can tell. And maybe a mild concussion but who hasn't these days?" He rubbed the back of his head and Victor was pretty sure he had a goose egg there similar to Gerry's.

Both Winchesters had showered as well and Dean wore some of his own clothes for a change.

"Can't believe this fucker stole my clothes." He muttered. "Good thing I didn't wear my favorite stuff on a sewer mission but still."

"Okay." Victor cut of his litany. "What happened to you two?"

The story was quickly told and not at all surprising. They had found the entrance to the cellar, the shifter had gotten a drop on them and then lights out.

"Woke up in an utility room tied up and half-naked." Dean muttered curses under his breath. His eyes flickered to Sam's still form on the bed and Victor just knew that Dean was beating himself up for not being there in time.

"Glad you made it out to save the day." Victor said.

"Yeah." Dean answered but he didn't sound convinced. "Too bad that son of a bitch got away." He rubbed his wrist which looked way more raw than Gerry's telling the story of how frantically Dean had worked to escape.

"You perforated him." Only now Dean seemed to recall that detail. "Why didn't the silver kill it?"

Victor shifted uncomfortable but he had to tell them or otherwise they would start looking for other explanations. "Em, that wasn't silver."

"What?" Gerry and Dean said at once.

"You, the fake you, tricked me." Victor couldn't meet his eye. "Switched my bullets."

Dean let out a groan. "You always check yourself." He said and nearly repeated the words of his double.

"Yeah, I learned that lesson." Victor shrunk under Dean's glare.

"How did you find out that Dean wasn't Dean?" Gerry jumped in and saved him.

"I didn't" Victor had to admit. Another complete failure. "Suddenly Sam and Dean were fighting and I had no idea who was the real one and who was the shifter. Not until Sam ripped some if that things skin off."

They sat in silence for a minute.

Staring down that barrel, Victor had known he would die. Another unpleasant memory. He sighed and washed a hand down his face.

"Okay, what are we doing now?" Victor asked.


	6. Chapter 6

With one of them out for the count and two with most likely mild concussions there was not much they could do at the moment than to sleep it off. Not that they had any idea where to look for the shifter anyhow, he wouldn't come back to his house and what he looked like at the moment they could only guess.

Their only lead was the house and Victor offered to do the research he could do online while the others rest and tomorrow they would do the legwork. No wandering off alone was the motto of the day. As if going in pairs had worked out that well in the past.

With a cup of coffee and a sigh Victor turned his laptop on while Gerry went to bed and was asleep seconds later. The shifter must had hit her hard on the head but she didn't complain.

In the next room Dean would have to deal with similar injuries but Victor doubted that he would sleep as deeply as Gerry. Not with an injured Sam right next to him.

How it was like to get the shit kicked out of you by something wearing a face you'd trust with your life, Victor had no idea. And for sure he didn't want to know how it felt like to wake up after that with said face hovering right over you. But Sam didn't seem afraid of Dean, as far as Victor could tell.

Using some of the tricks Sam had shown him Victor found out that the house the shifter apparently had lived in belonged to a John Smith. Could a name be fake more obviously? Victor shook his head in amusement. He would never say a word about the Winchesters' aliases again.

John Smith had bought the house five years ago, right before the first couple Gerry had found got into a major marital quarrel.

"Disguising as the partner, sleeping with the girl and then taking them to the cleaner's." Victor muttered under his breath, he didn't want to wake Gerry. "Sick fucker."

Victor didn't find more information and frustrated he shut the laptop. With nothing left to do he turned in early. To his surprise he slept like a baby most of the night.

He didn't dream of Foster or the vampires which was nice but when Victor woke up in the morning he had the disturbing picture of a muzzle in his mind. In his dream it had even looked bigger, ready to swallow him whole.

Covered in cold sweat Victor sat for a moment breathing hard. Morning twilight lightened the room but it would still be at least an hour before the sun was up. However, Victor doubted he could go back to sleep.

In the next bed Gerry was snoring softly and Victor slipped silently in the bathroom without disturbing her.

Brushing his teeth Victor wondered what he should do till the others woke up. Considering they were more or less injured he decided to do something nice and get breakfast.

Going out alone wasn't the brightest idea, he knew that, but he figured a quick run to the diner would be rather safe. So Victor left a note and grabbed the motel key.

The diner was close enough so he didn't have to take one of the cars - as if the Impala was even an option - and Victor enjoyed the walk in the cool morning air. Hands deep in his pockets he breathed off the tension in his body. Yesterday hadn't been one of his best and the unsettling dream still lingered in his mind.

This early in the morning the diner was nearly empty. Just one sleepy looking customer who tried to fight off the tiredness with coffee with questionable success.

Victor placed his order and then took a seat with a cup of coffee for himself while he waited for the food.

"Feeding a company?" The waitress behind the counter asked.

"Just two growing men, myself and a grumpy old woman." Victor replied with a curl of his lips and a look over his shoulder to make sure that Gerry hadn't decided to materialize right behind him.

"You are staying at the motel." She nodded to herself and filled up his cup. "Family?"

She kept her questions short but not impolite.

"No, no." Victor answered quickly. "We work together."

Just the thought of calling the Winchesters or Gerry family was amusing. Not that the Winchesters would let anybody wiggle his way into their relationship. Maybe Bobby could be considered as family but the rest of the world? Not so much.

With a "thank you" Victor got the three brown paper bags in one hand and balanced the tray with the coffee in the other and he really hoped that he won't spill everything on his way back.

Back at the motel he knocked at the door of the Winchesters' room and was greeted with a not really awake Dean in his sleep wear and bed-hair and one hand behind his back.

"I got breakfast." Victor hold up his treasure and he could practically see how the smell of the coffee put some life in the other man.

"You know this time actually counts as night, don't you?" Dean muttered but stepped aside and motioned for him to put the stuff on the table. When he turned back to Dean the gun wasn't any longer hidden behind his back and in the other hand he hold his phone.

"Smile." Dean said and then nodded satisfied and put the gun back under his pillow.

"How is Sam?" Victor asked. Sam was still asleep in the other bed and if he had moved over night he couldn't tell.

"He's fine." Dean insisted with his arms crossed over his chest and if his next step put him between Victor and his defenseless brother, it was purely accidental, right? Victor decided to not point that out.

"I'll get Gerry." Victor backed off.

"You know you are lucky that we know it's a shifter, right?" Gerry asked and put her phone away. "The camera test wouldn't work with most of the other sons of bitches out there."

She hadn't been pleased that he went out for breakfast on his own.

"I wouldn't mind cutting you with a silver knife every time you pull such a stupid stunt." She muttered and tried to comb her hair with her fingers. She looked like a grown up Curly Sue but Victor didn't dare to say that.

"Let me out of your kinky fantasies." He said instead and nodded towards the bathroom. "Why don't you get ready before Dean can eat it all by himself?"

Even Sam joined them for breakfast but by the way he hunched down on his chair he wasn't up for anything today. After a night's sleep Dean and Gerry were as good as new or so they pretended to be and the conversation quickly turned on the case.

"The house belongs to a John Smith." Victor told them around a mouth full of scrambled eggs. "Bought it right before this all started."

"That's not exactly helpful." Dean said but never let his eyes off his brother. Which was probably good because Sam looked like he was about to collapse face first into his pancakes. Pancakes he hadn't eaten more than a bite or two of.

"We have a name." Gerry pointed out. "An obvious fake name, but it's a name. We can start from there." She gave Victor an encouraging smile. While the others had slept he had found a lead, that wasn't that bad, wasn't it? Maybe he wasn't a complete failure after all or so he hoped.

"We have to find out more about this John Smith." Sam said his first words of the day. His voice was rough and when he swallowed he winced in pain. Judging by the marks on his throat it had to hurt. Victor couldn't recall it but at some point the fake Dean must have strangled him.

Sam's face was swollen and in full color by now and his left eye refused to open more than half way. And that were only the injuries Victor could see. The way Sam moved he was sore all over, maybe had some bruised rips.

Despite all the damage done to him by something wearing his brother's face Sam didn't even flinch when Dean used a napkin on his mouth where his fat lip couldn't keep all the coffee in.

Sam tried to bat the offending thing away, though, but his movement was way too slow.

"Dean." He whined but finally let his brother clean him up like he was a little child again. In Victor's opinion Sam should consider himself lucky that Dean didn't use spit to do it.

After that Dean brought his brother some pills and a glass of water which Sam accepted without complain. At Victor's side Gerry snickered.

"What?" Victor hissed.

"Can you believe they are bad-ass hunters?" She whispered back in a low voice obviously trying to keep the conversation between the two of them and obviously failing.

"We are awesome." Dean insisted and Sam sat up straighter to shrug off the vulnerable look. "Okay, Sammy. Back to bed."

"What? No." Sam stared at his brother in disbelieve. "I'm coming with you."

"Dude, we are three people." Dean tried to reason with him. "No need for you to drag your sorry ass out there to sit for hours in a stinky library."

"Dean's right." Gerry entered the conversation. "You should sit out the research part so you are back with us when we get this sucker."

Sam thought about that but the decision was taken away from him when Dean manhandled him back to bed and tucked him in. It was telling how easy Dean could do that.

"Stop sulking." Dean gave him a playful pat on the head. "Look I even turn the TV on for you."

The TV flickered to life and Sam flipped his brother off. Ignoring that Dean zapped through the channels and stopped at a local station with the news.

A female reporter stood in front of what looked like a gas station with flashing lights and people in uniform all around her.

"What at first started as a robbery quickly turned out into a massacre." The reporter said in that uninterested cold tone of her profession. "The owner, an employee and a customer were first shot and then brutally slaughtered with a knife. The police is looking for this man." A picture clearly taken from a security camera showed a man pointing a gun at the cashier with a woman – presumably the afore mentioned customer – standing next by. The third victim wasn't in the scene. "The suspect is an Afro-American in his late thirties to early forties. He is bald and wears a beard. The suspect is considered as armed and highly dangerous. Please contact the police in case you have any information about this man."

They showed a close-up of the man. The angle wasn't that good but Victor would recognize his own face everywhere.

He stared at the screen and tried to make sense out of what he was seeing. Every sound was sucked out of the room and he wasn't sure if he was even breathing. This couldn't be. This wasn't happening. That wasn't him. He hadn't done this. Black spots crept into his vision and he reminded himself to take a breath. His chest was too tight but he gulped in a mouthful of air, anyway.

"I didn't …" He had no idea what he wanted to say. That wasn't him, they would believe him, right? That had been the shifter, it had to be.

Slowly Victor looked around to find the others still glued to the TV where the reporter kept talking. It was all muffled and Victor didn't understand a word she was saying.

"I didn't." He repeated.


	7. Chapter 7

"That's not me." Victor still couldn't believe what he just saw.

"Dude, we know that." Dean rolled his eyes and turned the TV off. "That son of a bitch, looks like you pissed him off."

Sam made a huffing noise and propped himself up on his elbows.

"That's usually Dean's part." He squeaked out. "Am I the only one who gets a déjà vu feeling from all this?"

"Yeah, reminds me of that shifter from St. Louis." Dean nodded. "But I think it's just what shapeshifters do for fun."

Victor stared at the now black screen of the TV and tried to wrap his mind around what he had seen. The shifter had killed three people and for what? The money it got out of it? Victor didn't think so. The shifter had figured out a more smooth way to get money. No, this was a show just for Victor. And he had no clue what he had done to piss the shifter off that royally. Sam had beaten him up real good and Dean had shot him with silver but no, it was after Victor. Okay, he had kinda emptied a whole clip into its chest. It didn't kill it but it had to hurt.

And now that had cost three lives. Three innocent people were dead just because that thing had a personal vendetta with Victor.

With some delay this lead to another disturbing though. Everybody would now believe Victor was a cold-blooded killer. A man who had killed three people for a hand full of cash.

What would his friends at the FBI think? His ex-partner? Oh god, what if his family saw any of this? He could never explain that a creature did this and not him.

St. Louis, he thought and glanced at Dean, it's exactly what had happened to Dean in St. Louis. But unlike him Dean's family and his friends knew him and what he did so they'd never assumed that he actually was the monster who did those terrible things.

Everybody Victor knew – except the persons in this room – would think of him as a murderer and there were probably people who would claim that they had seen it coming.

Somebody patted his arm and when Victor glanced down he saw Gerry's hand on his forearm squeezing it in a reassuring way.

"What …" Victor had to clear his throat and then took a deep breath. They still had a job to do. "What are we doing now?"

"_We_ aren't doing anything." Dean said and Victor's heart sank. "You are keeping our princess company." He nodded towards Sam and glared at his brother till he flopped back down into the pillow. "While Gerry and I do the legwork."

Victor opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Dean. "The police is looking for you and this isn't exactly New York where you can hide in the mass. Here everybody knows everybody, they'll be suspicious enough towards strangers without seeing the supposed to be killer around."

Victor wanted to argue but Dean had a point. Going out meant more trouble than it was worth it. He didn't have to like it, though.

That settled Dean and Gerry got ready to leave. Victor and Sam watched them with the same disappointed expression.

With them gone Victor sat alone at the table and stared at the leftovers from their breakfast. From his place in bed Sam was silent for long minutes and Victor already thought he had fallen asleep.

"We'll find this sucker and then we'll leave all this behind." Sam suddenly said. Lost in his thought Victor just answered with a confused "huh?".

"The shifter." Sam turned to his side so he could face Victor with his one and a half eyes. "Dean and Gerry will find something to pin him down and then we kill him." He smiled but it looked forced. "In three days we'll have half the country between us and this town."

Maybe it was because Sam was used to being wanted. Victor couldn't say that it reassured him in the slightest to put a few borders between him and the crime scene.

And before that they still had a shifter to deal with, though. Who knew what he was up to?

"How did you know that it wasn't Dean?" Victor changed the subject. Now Sam's smile reached his eyes.

"Shifters are good, really good, but they are not perfect." Sam led himself fall back and looked at the ceiling.

"I haven't noticed anything." Victor had to admit. "And when you two fought, I had no idea who to shoot."

Now Sam chuckled but it was short lived and ended with a hiss and probing fingers at his fat lip.

"Need something for the pain?"

"Nah, I'm good." Sam yawned and shifted into a comfortable position. "Dean dosed me up really good."

"Yeah, I noticed him mothering you." A smile ghosted over his lips and for a second the voice screaming in panic in his head was silent.

"That's why I knew it wasn't him." Sam said but he sounded already half asleep. "That thing just felt wrong."

Victor nodded. He had been on the road with the Winchesters for a few month now and he got it. He probably would never get them but he got the closeness between the brothers.

Sam drifted off but every time Victor thought he had fallen asleep he shifted, more or less opened his eyes and glanced around till he settled back again.

He never said anything and it took Victor a while till he noticed what was wrong. And he wanted to smack his head when he finally realized what the problem was.

"I think I lay down as well." He said and stood up. Instantly Sam's eyes were on him and seeing the bruised and swollen face Victor just wanted to let the boy rest. And he wouldn't rest with Victor around. With Dean in the room it would not be a problem, it would probably help Sam to relax, but with Victor around he couldn't let go.

Holding his phone up Victor said: "Call if you need something."

"Sure." Sam mumbled and Victor slipped out of the room.

With a sigh Victor let himself in his own room. Gerry's stuff lay all around and it somewhat grounded him, gave him the feeling of not being alone. However, resting or even sleeping was impossible for him at the moment.

Pacing up and down he waited to hear from Dean and Gerry.

He wanted to stop that shifter. Now. Before it could kill again. With his face. With his hands.

Did it have Victor's fingerprints? It hadn't used gloves but that would have missed the point, wouldn't it? Could the shifter imitate his DNA? Not that it mattered, the footage from the gas station alone would break Victor's neck in any court.

He couldn't go back, Victor realized. Even if he wanted to, there was no way back to his old life now. Not any more.

Suddenly his legs gave out and he had to sit down on his bed. Staring at his hands dangling lifeless between his knees he tried to get the pictures out of his mind. The bad quality footage showing him with a gun and a knife and three people who had died pleading for mercy with something that wore his face. The last part hadn't been on TV but Victor had no trouble picturing it in his head.

He knew it was a bad idea but he couldn't stand the thought of her being told by some police officer or worse a reporter. So he dealt a familiar number and listened to the ringing not sure what to say to her.

"Hello?" Came the warm voice out of the speaker and Victor blinked against the tears.

"Mom?" His voice was hoarse. "It's me."

He wanted to say more but his brain didn't supply the right words and his tongue was too useless right now to do anything.

"Vic, is that you?" She asked but she already knew, of course she knew it was him. "Where have you been? What happened?" Now she was at the edge of tears as well and for long seconds they both tried to control their emotions.

"Sorry I didn't call." Victor finally said.

"Boy, you know how long it's been?" She had found her voice as well. "Where are you? Quitting the FBI and then just disappearing into the night, you have any idea what I went through? Not knowing where you were, what you did. I didn't even know if you were still alive."

Victor let her tirade wash over him. It was somewhat comforting, this mixture of worry and love and _no dessert for you, young man_ only his mother could provide.

After the first burst of emotions she calmed down and ended with: "Hey, baby. Are you alright?"

Victor washed a hand down his face. Was he alright? Definitely not. Was he going to tell her that? Also a no. Which left him with the question of what to tell her. Thinking about that he had to bite his tongue to stifle the chuckle building up in his chest.

"I'm fine." He repeated the universal Winchester answer to this kind of question. Maybe he had been around the brothers for too long.

"When are you coming home?" She sounded like she wanted to hug him, wanted to stroke his head and whisper soothing words into his ear and damn, he needed that right now. But all he got was a crappy phone call.

"I'm not sure." He answered because he just couldn't tell her _never_. "There is this thing I've to do. I can't tell you more but it's important." And now he sounded like a cheap James Bond wannabe.

"Vic, baby. What have you gotten yourself into?" She said with the _I'm here for you no matter what_ clearly hidden in her words.

"Something happened." Victor started and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he could ever breathe again. "People died and it looks …" He had to break up. How do you tell your mother that she'll see hard proof that her son is a killer?

"It looks like I did it." There, he'd said it. With his eyes closed he waited for her reaction.

"Oh, baby." And now he really wanted her to hold him.

"I'm not sure if I can sort this out." Most certainly not. "But I wanted to be the one to tell you. I wanted to tell you that I didn't do that. It wasn't me. It looks like it was but it wasn't. I would never … you know that, right? I could never just kill somebody." He was babbling, he knew that, but he couldn't help it.

"Of course I know." She immediately backed him up. "Please, come home, we can do this together."

"I wish I could do that." He really wished but that would only end with him in prison and monsters running free to kill more innocent people and that wasn't an option.

"I have to go now." Time to end the call or he would run back to her. "I'm not sure if you'll hear from me any time soon." He wiped the tears from his face. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, baby."

And before she could say another word Victor ended the call. He threw the phone on the bed and he should probably get rid of it as soon as possible but now his mind was swirling.

Pacing up and down he was ready to climb the walls. He needed something to do. But there was only this crappy room and out there a shifter on the loose wearing his face.

Most of the weapons were in the trunk of the Impala but Victor had his gun and two silver knives with him. At least he could keep his hands busy by cleaning the gun and sharpen the knives. Not that it was really needed at the moment, but whatever. And he would make sure to have the right bullets.

With his hands doing the familiar dance his mind calmed down a bit. They would get the shifter. Dean and Gerry would find a lead and then they would kill that bastard.

Suddenly the door burst open.


	8. Chapter 8

The door burst open and then there was light blinding Victor and voices shouting.

"Down! Get down! Now!" and "Hands where I can see them!" and "Gun! He has a gun!"

And then Victor landed face first on the floor with several hands holding him down and handcuffs clicked too tight around his wrists. A knee hit him in the rips, totally accidentally he'd bet.

Craning his neck Victor saw way too many legs around him, clad in something which looked suspiciously like sheriff uniforms.

Letting his head fall back on the dirty carpet Victor thought: I'm so screwed.

Victor was forced up and lead out of the room while one of the deputies put his gun and the knives in little evidence bags and another one searched the room.

When they passed the Winchesters' room the curtains moved and for a split second he saw Sam's battered face peeking out. At least Sam knew what had happened but Victor wasn't sure what the others could do to help him. Let alone if they were willing to help him. The Winchesters were wanted as well and with Gerry he wasn't sure but it wouldn't surprise him if there was a warrant out for her too. They could drop him like a hot potato.

The ride to the department was short and Victor tried to ignore the hatred looks he got from the driver and the deputy in the passenger seat.

In a small town like this everybody knew everybody and the sheriff probably played poker with the owner of the gas station on Saturdays. Or their kids played in the same baseball team. Didn't matter what the connection was, they took the death of the three persons personal. And Victor was the one who did it. At least it looked that way and Victor knew there was nothing he could say or do to convince them otherwise.

At the station he was manhandled in an interrogation room, cuffed to the table and then left alone to stew for a bit.

Victor caught the irony of his situation. Not long ago he would have liked to have Dean sitting where he sat now, would have been sure that he had caught a real monster. And now he sat here, cuffed to the furniture and the only thought in his mind was: I'm so screwed.

They let him stew for nearly an hour before the door opened and the sheriff stepped in. A tall man around his fifties, football player type, with harsh lines on his face.

With a thud a thick file landed on the table. Victor appreciated the dramatic but he doubted that the real file of this case was that thick. Stuffed up with every piece of paper they had found to make it more impressive was his guess but it worked. Eying the closed file Victor licked his lips while the sheriff sat down.

"So, Agent Dennis DeYoung." Victor's fake FBI badge landed on top of the file. "Or should I say former Agent Victor Henriksen?"

Okay, they had done their homework. And in a very short time period as well. Victor would have been impressed if they wouldn't work against him.

Victor decided to keep his mouth shut and to glare at the sheriff instead.

"I've only one question, you sick bastard." The sheriff wanted to use way more colorful words and maybe his fists, that was clearly written on his face, but a side glance to the red light at the camera in the corner kept him in line.

Yeah, that little thing could be a real pain in the ass, Victor remembered not without amusement. He couldn't count how many times he just had wanted to punch the suspect in front of him. Now he was glad the camera was there and that the sheriff was professional enough to not screw the case up with brutality against a helpless suspect.

"Why?" With that one word the sheriff opened the file and threw reports with pictures attached to them on the table. Pictures from the scene, bright and colorful. What Victor had seen on TV was nothing compared to this.

With trembling hands Victor picked up one picture after the other, forced himself to look at them. He didn't do this, never wanted anybody to suffer, but this had been done to punish him. So in some way this was his fault.

"Getting a hard-on from this?" The sheriff spatted and ripped the pieces of paper out of Victor's hands. One picture fell loose but the sheriff was to far gone to notice the missing paperclip. "You couldn't just shoot them. You had to torture them. Can't get it up otherwise?"

He slammed his hands on the table, making Victor flinch.

Damn, Vic, he thought to himself. Get a grip.

He knew the tactics, had used them himself a thousand times, but seemingly he wasn't immune.

"I want to speak to my lawyer." Victor finally said and leaned back as far as his cuffed hands let him. God, he had hated those words but now he couldn't help but watching with satisfaction while the sheriff tried to get his emotions under control.

In one last attempt the sheriff leaned forward. "Just tell me why. What did those people do to deserve this?" He tapped the pile of papers. On top lay a close-up of the woman – the customer with bad timing – and Victor tried hard to not look at the bloody mess she had become under the knife of something wearing his face.

"Nothing." Was his whispered answer and he couldn't stand the hatred gaze any longer. Ashamed he lowered his eyes and just wished to be brought to his cell.

The sheriff opened his mouth to continue but was interrupted by a knock at the door and then a very young deputy stuck his head in.

"Sheriff Andrews?" He asked and looked unsure between the sheriff and his prisoner.

The sheriff sighed. "What is it, Tommy?"

"Ehm." He shifted and Victor wasn't sure if the boy was afraid of him or the sheriff. "We got a call. There's a shooting down the Miller's Road."

"Why are you bothering me with this?" The sheriff snapped and Tommy ducked his head. "Send Ann and Chris to have a look." He ordered as if that was obvious and the young deputy was just too stupid to make this decision himself.

With a hasty "Yessir" Tommy shut the door.

The interruption seemed to have calmed the sheriff down a bit. He sat with his elbows rested on the table, hands folded in front of him and just watched Victor for a long minute.

"For a former FBI agent this was very sloppy." Sheriff Andrews finally said with a gesture over the file. "We don't need your confession. We have you on camera, we have your fingerprints and as soon as we get the samples back from the lab we'll have your DNA as well. We found you with the gun and the knives and I bet we'll get a match with the murder weapons."

Victor had serious doubt about the last part but that wouldn't help him. He could have thrown away the real murder weapons. They didn't need the weapons to proof that he was guilty, the shifter had made sure of that. Even if the shifter couldn't copy his DNA and the samples came back without a match it wouldn't help Victor. In his time with the FBI he had wet dreams about a case as tight as this one. There was no way wiggling out of it. His only chance was to escape.

Between his sweaty fingers Victor felt the paperclip – way too hot and heavy for such a tiny piece of wire – and he expected that the sheriff would call him on it any second now.

"Which brings us back to the why." The sheriff continued and leaned forward looking Victor in the eye. "You could have avoided all this, you could have killed them more … discreetly." He struggled visibly with his emotions but he managed to keep his voice calm and professional.

Sheriff Andrews would have made an excellent agent, Victor thought.

"Loosing it like this." He tapped the file with his finger. "It's personal. So tell me why. Who pissed you off that badly that you killed the other two just because they were there? Tell me!" With the last words he slammed his hand flat on the table.

Victor jumped in his seat but kept silent. There was nothing he had to say. He didn't even know those people.

Another knock at the door saved him from the hatred glare the sheriff shot him.

"What?" Sheriff Andrews barked.

Tommy nearly hit himself in the face with the door. "Sir, we got another call."

"What now?" He made an impatient gesture for Tommy to continue.

"There was an accident near Redwater Bridge." Tommy stammered and duck his head.

The sheriff sighed. "Is David still here?"

Tommy nodded.

"Okay, send him and call Becky to meet him there." Calculating his manpower the sheriff made the decision and Tommy shut the door.

A little station like this, Victor doubted they had more deputies available except the sheriff himself and Tommy. And the secretary he had seen when they had brought him in.

"Busy day." Victor said.

"Looks like." The sheriff's attention was now once again focused on his suspect. "Your friends causing trouble?"

"Don't have any friends." Victor shrugged but wondered. Maybe this was a distraction but with the sheriff still right in his face it didn't do him any good.

"Oh, you have a girlfriend." The sheriff countered. "And we have a witness confirming that you are here with two other friends."

Victor's mind raced. Did Sheriff Andrews know about the Winchesters?

"Yeah, a girlfriend. And we sleep in different beds, sure." He tried to play it casual. "Look, those people don't know shit about me. They picked up a hitchhiker and offered a bed for the night, that's it." With a shrug he brushed it off. "Actually they might be lucky that you caught me." Victor added with a smug grin – or as smug as he could manage right now – and let the sheriff drew his own conclusions. No way Victor would drag the others down with him.

"Are you confessing that you've planned to kill those people?"

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer."

And there they were again. Danced around a full circle without getting anywhere. Victor hoped for the sheriff it was as frustrating as he remembered from his own time with the FBI.

Once again they were interrupted by Tommy.

"Ehm, Sheriff Andrews?" He didn't dare to look him in they eye.

"For Christ's sake, Tommy. What is it now?"

"Mrs. Morse called. Somebody drunk is in her front yard and she fears for gladioluses." He stumbled over the name of the plants and blushed a little. Sheriff Andrews let out a groan.

"Is everybody in this town going nuts?" The sheriff muttered and fished a key out of his pocket. "I'll check this out myself."

Because there is nobody you can send except for little Tommy here, Victor guessed. And he wasn't sure if Tommy was old enough to drive yet.

"No sudden movements." Sheriff Andrews warned and then opened the cuffs just to close them behind Victor's back a second later. Without resistance Victor let them escorted him out of the interrogation room to the back of the building where they had three holding cells. All empty right now and probably only used as drunk tanks on weekends.

They pushed Victor in the nearest cell and didn't bother to undo the cuffs holding his hands on his back.

As soon as he was alone Victor leaned against the bars and tried to see through the little window in the door separating the cells from the office. From this angle he could only see a part of the ceiling but he could hear Sheriff Andrews instructing Tommy.

"Don't get near the prisoner."

"Don't talk to him."

"And most important, don't open the cell door."

Tommy answered every instruction with a "Yessir!" and the sheriff left with the promise that one of the other deputies out there would be back soon.

That was Victor's signal to move his ass.

* * *

**A/N** _This story (and this 'verse) will be done after twelve chapters. So the question is: What next?_

_I've two ideas I really like begging for attention, both already fleshed out and first chapter written. They are multi-chapter stories told from outsider POVs and I'll write both of them eventually but which one first?_

**Fellowship of the Nine**

Summary: Sam spends a weekend with old friends from Stanford but he isn't the man they used to know anymore. Set in season two.

**My First**

Summary: Dean Winchester was my first everything. My first friend, my first lover, my first victim. Not a deathfic, pre-series.

_Please drop me a note if you like one of the ideas (more than the other)._


	9. Chapter 9

A/N **Fellowship of the Nine** won the little poll without a dissentient vote so that story will be next. Thanks for your input.

* * *

Victor decided that he loved the stop watch. He had hated that thing but now he would clearly prefer to race against the clock where the loser had to do the laundry and not had to go to prison for the rest of his life.

The paperclip slipped out of his sweaty fingers and he had to kneel awkwardly to get it back with his hands cuffed on his back.

"Gotcha." He threw the cuffs on the bed and a second later Victor was working on the lock of the door. One eye on the little window to the main office it took him an eternity but finally the lock gave in.

Peeking through the little window Victor saw the secretary on the phone. She was facing the entrance and with one hand she typed on the keyboard in front of her. Victor couldn't understand the words but by the way she giggled from time to time and the tone she used he'd guess this was a private call. And it didn't seem like she would finish it any time soon.

At least not before I'm out of here, Victor hoped. Tommy was nowhere in sight and Victor opened the door a crack to get a better view.

The door to the restroom opened and Victor drew back. One long second he was sure that Tommy had seen him but the young man only wagged his finger playfully at the secretary who laughed at him with a wave of her hand. Rolling his eyes Tommy disappeared in on of the smaller rooms at the side.

Now or never. Victor stepped in the main office. His plan was to sneak by and get out at the side but then he saw Tommy examining the evidence bags with Victor's gun and the knives. And he had his back to the open door.

Decision made Victor was across the room in three long steps, had the deputy's gun in hand long seconds before Tommy noticed that he was screwed. The young deputy jumped with a shriek and then realized that the prisoner was free and had a gun. Tommy's gun.

Facing his own gun Tommy lost all color, his eyes huge in his face.

"Please, don't kill me." He stammered and backed off till he was plastered against the wall. In the background Victor still heard the secretary talking.

"I won't kill you." Victor promised but he saw the doubt clearly written over the deputy's face. Yeah, Victor had killed three innocent people why should he spare a deputy blocking his way to freedom?

Victor stepped farther into the room so that the door hid him from the secretary's view.

"The girl, call her over." Victor instructed. He had to get her off the phone before she noticed something was wrong.

For a second the deputy looked like he would just pass out but then he cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the gun pointing at him and then called: "Beth, I need your help here."

Victor doubted she could even hear his hoarse whisper and with a jerk of the gun he motivated Tommy to try again.

"Beth! Move your lazy ass over her." His voice cracked and that alone would have triggered every instinct Victor had. Beth on the other hand ...

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Jeez." Victor could picture her rolling her eyes but she ended the call and what seemed like an eternity later she entered the room.

Victor grabbed her arm and dragged her in front of him. Stumbling she fought him till she saw the muzzle of the gun just inches from her face.

"Shit!" She glared at him but stopped fighting.

"Please, don't kill us." Tommy had now tears in his eyes and Victor hated himself for what he was doing but he had to get out of here. Now. He turned Beth so that her back was against his chest and the gun pointed at her shoulder. No way he would any longer aim at her head. Just no.

"Please, just go. Don't kill us. Please. Oh, God, please." Tommy bubbled and snot was running out of his nose.

"Tom, look at me." Beth spoke up. "Calm down. Everything is fine. Tommy."

For somebody with a gun pointed at her by an assumed killer she was surprisingly calm.

"Okay." Victor had to end this before somebody came back. "This is what we do. We go over to the cells, nice and slow. I lock you two in and then I leave. Sounds good?"

Tommy eyed him sceptically, however, Victor hadn't shot them by now. That should give him enough hope to survive this to not try anything stupid. Or so Victor hoped.

"Lead the way." Victor signaled Tommy to get moving and together they made the short way to the cells. Against his chest Victor felt Beth trembling but besides harsh breaths she didn't show her fear.

"Open the cell in the back." Victor ordered. He wanted them as far away as possible. "Keys on the floor. Now back off." With his hands in the air Tommy made his way backwards till he was once again plastered against the wall. Victor released Beth and she hurried to get to Tommy's side.

Without breaking eye contact Victor got the keys and locked the door.

"Phones? Radio?" He asked as an afterthought. It wouldn't help him if they called the sheriff the second he turned his back on them. Two phones scattered over the floor. Victor picked them up. As a second afterthought he turned the camera of one of the phones on and checked the eyes of his prisoners for flares. And found none. But better safe than sorry, right?

"You'll find them on Beth's desk." He promised and then left the cells. He left Tommy's gun on the desk, too. With his own gun loaded with silver bullets and his knives back he had no need for another weapon.

Tucking his gun in the waistband he was ready to leave when the front door opened and a tall man stumbled in.

In a heartbeat Victor had his gun in hand.

"Sam?"

Sam was wearing his clothes from the other day, still reeking of sewers and strained with blood and unidentifiable goo. He pressed a bloody cloth – maybe a piece of a shirt – to his battered face and he looked like he had been in a fight minutes ago and not yesterday with a good night's sleep and mothering aftercare by his brother between then and now.

Stumbling like he was about to keel over he made a few steps into the station.

"Sam?" Victor repeated and lowered his gun. Now Sam looked up. Taking a quick glance around the younger man straightened and removed the bloody cloth from his face.

"I'm the cavalry." He announced. "But it looks like you don't need the cavalry. Where is everybody?"

"Locked them in a cell." Victor pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "The two that are not out chasing some fake 911-calls, that is. The calls were a distraction, right?"

"Jep." A grin spread over his face. Combined with the bruises and his split lip it looked kinda scary and Victor wondered if this was the real Sam. "Let's go, they'll be back any minute."

"As soon as I'm sure you are really Sam." The gun now once again aimed at Sam Victor reached for the phones on the desk next to him.

Sam nodded and waited patiently for Victor to check his eyes with the camera. Relief washed over Victor when the eyes didn't flare.

"I was going to check you too before we leave." Sam said and pulled out his own phone. "Okay, you are you."

And then, finally, they left the station.

"The Impala is around the corner." Sam lead the way.

"Your brother stays back and lets you go on a rescue mission alone?" Victor shook his head in disbelieve. If he hadn't checked Sam a minute ago he would do it again. But he probably should test Dean as soon as he saw him.

"He didn't like it." Sam grinned and got in the car. "Not at all. But with the way I look at the moment it was the best plan we came up in the short time."

With a shrug he started the car.

"Thanks." Victor shifted uncomfortable in the seat. "For, you know, coming for me."

Sam shot him a long look. "We wouldn't let you down."

Victor swallowed against the lump in his throat and nodded.

Eyes back on the road Sam got his phone out and hit speed deal. A second later the call was answered.

"Yeah, I got him." Sam said. "Bounced into him on my way in. Didn't need my help at all." He winked with his good eye in Victor's direction and Victor couldn't help it, a proud grin spread over his face.

On the other end Dean said something but Victor couldn't understand the words.

"What?" Sam yelled into the phone. "That bastard."

"Yeah, I am careful. Meet you there." With an angry motion Sam ended the call.

"What happened?" Victor asked. Something wasn't going like planned, that much was obvious.

"Someone sliced all four tires of Gerry's truck." Sam said through gritted teeth.

The shifter, Victor thought. "Are we going to pick them up?"

Sam shook his head. "No, with you on the run, it's better to get you out of town first. They'll meet up with us later."

Victor didn't like it, not at all. Splitting up hadn't turned out well the first time and he doubted it would this time. But he had no better idea. It wouldn't help anybody if somebody spotted him and called the sheriff.

Sam drove them out of town and after a while turned into a private driveway which was mostly overgrown and didn't look like it had been used in years.

Victor knew exactly what Dean would have to say to the scratching noises some of the branches made and judging by the way Sam winced with every sound he was thinking the same.

"Maybe he won't notice." Victor offered.

"And pigs can fly." Sam answered grimly but then he glanced at Victor. "I can blame it on you. Don't worry, he likes you so he won't kill you."

"Maybe you should just bring me back to the station."

When they were deep enough in the woods so they couldn't be seen from the road, Sam stopped and with a groan leaned back in his seat.

"Are you alright?" Victor asked only now remembering that the younger man was injured.

"I'm fine." Sam mumbled but closed his eyes for a moment. Then he cracked them open again. "No word to Dean."

"My lips are sealed." Victor made the key motion and Sam grinned at him before he settled back. "What do we do next?"

"We wait for the others, regroup somewhere and then we'll find this bastard." Sam shifted uncomfortable in his seat. In the morning having breakfast with them at the table had completely exhausted Sam and now he was walking and driving around on a stupid rescue mission.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I'm causing." Victor said and he really felt sorry.

"It's not your fault." Sam didn't bother to open his eyes. "It's part of the job. The shifter would have picked one of us no matter if you were there or not."

Victor nodded and they sat in silence for a while.

"What do you think." Victor spoke up when the shadows grow longer and the light started to fade. "How long till the others will arrive?"

But Sam didn't answer. Instead he snored softly and Victor didn't have the heart to wake him up.


	10. Chapter 10

Replacing four tires in a small town like this wasn't easy Victor guessed and he wasn't surprised when an hour later there was still no sign of Gerry's truck. He tried to avoid thinking of the possibility that the shifter or the sheriff had something to do with their delay.

By now it was completely dark and Victor had nothing to do than to sit there lost in his thoughts while he strained is ears to catch any sound beside Sam's soft snoring. The wind whispered in the trees and he thought he heard little animals in the underwoods, but that could just be his overactive imagination.

What he could not dismiss as imaginary was his bladder. Over the last half an hour its demand for attention grew more urgent by the minute.

"Sam?" Victor asked not sure if he really wanted to wake up the other man. But leaving the car without letting him know wasn't that good of an idea either.

"Sam." Victor shook Sam's shoulder and hoped that he didn't cause further pain.

Sam smacked his lips and mumbled something which could be a "What?".

"I'll step out for a second." Victor informed him. "Gonna take a leak."

"Okay." Sam nodded but his eyes fell close again.

Checking his gun – and yes, this time he had the right bullets – Victor took a deep breath and got out of the car. In the dark with nobody around but a sleeping Sam and maybe a some mice Victor just stepped around the rear end of the car to do his business.

All senses on high alert he hurried to get back in the car. With the trees blocking the already poor light he couldn't see farther than his outstretched hand and he had that feeling of being watched which he couldn't shake off.

And still, the figure jumping him from behind got him by surprise.

"Hi, Viccy." A voice right next to his ear said. Victor had never really heard his own voice like that but he recognized it immediately. With one arm across his chest and a knife at Victor's throat the shifter had him good. And he was pulling him away from the car. Away from Sam.

"Shh. Don't wanna wake Sammy boy, don't you?" Victor couldn't see his face but he could clearly tell the other one was grinning, close to giggling actually and wasn't that disturbing? He hadn't giggled since he had been five.

"What do you want?" Victor asked and winced when the blade broke his skin. Not deep but he felt some wetness on his throat.

"Had a sweet setup here." The shifter said. "Really nice. Then a hunter was on my tail. And then you came along with Tweedledum and Tweedledee."

Step by step the shifter dragged him deeper into the woods.

"You know." The shifter continued to whisper in his ear. "Normal bullets can't kill me but I gonna tell you this, it still hurts like a bitch to get perforated. Making you wish you could die from it."

The grip across his chest loosened and Victor tensed up to make a break for it but then he got hit in the side. With a little upwards drift the fist landed right under his ribcage. It knocked the wind out of him. Victor buckled and with a grunt he landed on his knees.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Victor panted holding his side. It wasn't that bad but the shifter didn't have to know that.

Play it low, he thought. A little weak, defeated and maybe, just maybe …

"I'm not going to kill you." The shifter said. In one hand he was still holding the knife, the blade caught the poor light from the stars, and in the other one he had Victor's gun.

Must have snatched it when I went down, Victor guessed. Sneaky bastard.

"You are going to sit tight while I'll go back to sleepy Sammy over there." The shifter grinned down at him. "The brothers know each other too well to fool them for long but do they know you that well? What do you think? Will Sam figure it out before I cut his throat?"

Keeping an eye on the muzzle of the gun Victor got into a crouched position. With his hands on the ground he kept his balance. Pine-needles bit him in the skin of his palms but he didn't dare to stand up. Or shout for help. Sam would hear him, that was for sure. But he also would hear the gun shot which would kill Victor the next second.

"Let's find a nice place where you can sit out all the action while I deal with your friends." He waved the gun. "Don't worry, I'll let the sheriff know where you are before I skip this town. Get up."

Now or never. Like a spring Victor shot up throwing a handful of pine-needles in the shifter's face.

With a surprised scream the shifter tried to cover his face with both hands and Victor didn't wait for him to get his bearings. He barreled into him and they both went down. Gun and knife clattered away but Victor didn't dare going after them.

It was too dark to actually see the face he was pummeling but Victor felt bone crushing under his punches and wetness on his split knuckles. The thing under him buckled and tried to throw him off but Victor hold his position for a few seconds longer.

Finding an opening the shifter hit back and together they rolled over the ground. Now Victor lay on his back with a dark figure sitting on his chest. Against the sky he could only make out the silhouette and a faint glint in the thing's eyes. Then everything exploded into stars when its fist connected with his temple.

The shifter had Victor's arms pinned down with his knees so there was no covering his head when one blow landed after the other. Victor tasted blood.

Searching frantically for something to help him his fingers brushed through dry leaves and pine-needles. No branch, no rock, no nothing.

"You are a pain in my ass, you know that?" The shifter finally stopped punching him in the face. He stood up and kicked Victor in the side so that he rolled over. Hanging to consciousness only by his fingertips Victor wasn't a threat any more and they both knew it.

"You should have stayed with the FBI." He sounded congested maybe from a broken nose. Victor would have grinned if his face hadn't been a mess. And something poked him in the stomach.

"Maybe Foster would still be alive." The shifter thought loud. "And Mommy dearest wouldn't have to deal with the fact that her son is a cold-blooded killer. Three people already down and three to go, how could you?" The shifter mocked him. "You know what's keeping Dean and your girlfriend? Sicked the sheriff on their asses. They'll be busy for a while but don't worry Dean'll sweet talk his way out of that. Too late to save his brother, though. I'll let him live just long enough to realize little Sammy is dead. Oh boy, that'll be fun."

Victor wasn't really listening. He was more focused on the thing poking him in the stomach.

"They will kill you." Victor croaked out and fumbled for that thing. His fingers found the handle of his gun.

"They won't even know what hit them." The shifter moved a few steps farther away and picked something up.

The knife, Victor guessed. However, that didn't matter anymore.

"Neither will you." Victor emptied the whole clip into the thing.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N Saturday this website had a major problem, new chapters didn't show up. They say it's fixed now so I hope this chapter will show up properly.

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_That's how I look dying,_ Victor thought randomly when the shifter went down. Victor held his head up long enough to make sure the shifter didn't get up again and then slammed face first back to the ground. He breathed through leaves and pine-needles but didn't have the energy to get up.

Somewhere somebody was shouting his name and the beam of a flashlight bounced around the trees.

"Vic?" Sam, Victor realized. Maybe he should answer. "Vic!"

Seconds later the light hit him right in the face.

"Victor, shit." Sam was next to him. Fingertips ghosted over his head and his neck, probing, pulling. Victor winced in pain.

"Sorry, gotta check." Sam finished his exam. "Can you roll over?"

"'M good." He mumbled and was absolutely content with just laying on the damp ground. The pine-needle were a little uncomfortable but nothing compared to the pain he expected from moving. Sam, however, had other ideas. Gently but firmly he rolled Victor over and then the light was back.

Victor screwed his eyes shut and let Sam do his thing.

"'S dead?" Victor asked and probed a tooth with his tongue. It gave a little but he hoped it would hold.

"Yeah, you killed it." Sam smiled at him with his split lip. "But we better get going. Don't know if anybody heard the shooting. Can you get up?"

Victor was pretty sure that the answer to that was _no_ but he nodded and with Sam's help he got his feet under him. After a few seconds the world mostly stopped spinning. The pain, however, stabbed through him with every move he made. Once again even breathing hurt. Yeah, he really had missed that feeling.

"What are we doing with him?" Victor glared at the dead thing that so much looked like him.

"We leave it." Sam adjusted his grip and lead him back to the car. "The sheriff will find it, case closed." They made a few more steps. "Sorry, you'll be officially dead after this."

Victor heard the words but they washed over him. Maybe when his head didn't feel like a smashed melon anymore he could think about that.

Sam manhandled him into the car and then they were on the road.

Before he drifted of to unconsciousness Victor heard Sam talking on the phone but couldn't make out the words.

When he woke up they were in the parking lot of what looked like another motel. Where, Victor had no idea but didn't exactly care. It promised a bed and that was all he was asking for at the moment. Maybe some painkillers, that would be awesome.

Sam got them a room, coaxed Victor out of the car and into the bed, cleaned his wounds and dosed him up with some of the good stuff. Took some himself and then they fell into their pillows.

"Dean and Gerry should be here in an hour or two." Sam mumbled before he drifted off to sleep and Victor followed right behind.

At some point Dean was there, checking on them but otherwise Victor slept deep and dreamless till morning.

"Morning, sunshine." Dean greeted him.

"Do I smell coffee?" Hopefully Victor cracked his eyes open.

"Coffee, painkillers and the newspaper." The latter landed on his bed. "You made it to the headline."

"Killer found shot in the woods" was said headline garnished with a picture of Victor which was clearly taken from his FBI badge and another one which showed how a body in a black bag had been carried out of the woods.

"You got that bastard." Dean raised his cup of coffee. "Good job."

"The sheriff?" Vaguely Victor remembered the shifter saying something about Dean and the sheriff.

"Had a couple of questions." Dean shrugged. "Wouldn't take no for an answer. Good thinking with the hitchhiker story by the way."

"He let you go?" Back in the days he would have given the sheriff hell for having Dean Winchester in the station and letting him go.

Dean flashed him a gin. "Apparently the shifter didn't drop my real name."

"He wanted you out of the way for a while." Speaking hurt, his whole face felt like it had been through a meat grinder. "Wanted to kill you all and pin it on me."

"You really pissed him off." Dean smirked like that was something good.

Gerry stuck her head in and Dean excused himself mumbling something about helping Sam packing the car. The fact that he younger man wasn't in the bed next to him hadn't actually reached Victor's mind until now.

"It's alive." Gerry grinned at him and pulled a chair closer to Victor's bed.

"Barely." Carefully he sipped at his coffee. His lip was split and it felt fat and sore and at some point he had to get up the nerve to look in a mirror but he would live.

"I was thinking." She played with the seam of her jeans. "How about watching each others asses for a while?"

Victor blinked at her. She wasn't asking what he thought she was asking, right? But she looked serious.

"Why?" Was all Victor could think of.

"You're good hunter." She looked down avoiding his gaze. "As a team we might survive for a while."

"I killed your partner." Did he really have to remind her of that fact?

"That's the main reason I want you." Now she looked him straight in the eye. "You didn't hesitate. You did what you had to do. I want somebody at my side I can trust to do the same for me."

He swallowed thickly not sure what to say.

"Okay." Was the only thing he could think of. The Winchesters would kick him out rather sooner than later, their deal had been temporarily from the beginning, and for sure he didn't feel ready to hunt on his own. Like Gerry said, together they might live for a while longer. And to be honest, he liked her.

"Great." She grinned at him. "Now, why don't you hit the bathroom while I tell Dean to throw your things out and then we'll get moving. You can sleep in the car. I want a state or two between us and your dead corpse as soon as possible."

Still kinda numb Victor got under the shower. The painkillers had kicked in and the pain was bearable. Slowly it dawned to him that _Victor Henriksen_ was now officially dead. They would bury that thing under his name.

_Who will come to my funeral_, he wondered and wasn't that a morbid thought?

His mother, his family, his friends, everybody he ever knew now thought he was a cold-blooded killer. A dead cold-blooded killer.

Gerry had loaded Victor's things in her truck, with four shiny new tires, and they were ready to go.

Two manly hugs and the promise to call if he ever needed help later the Winchesters drove off and Victor climbed stiffly in the truck.

"You move like an old man." Gerry got in the driver's seat.

"Says the grumpy old woman." He made himself comfortable while she brought the engine to life.

"Where to?" He asked but didn't really care.

"Hole up for a day or two, we both could use a break." She answered with a side glance at his abused face. "Then we'll find something to kill."

"Sounds good." Victor let the purring of the engine lull him to sleep.

***end***

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This is it. Victor's journey with the Winchesters is over and I think Gerry will take good care of him from now on.

Maybe (and this is a huge maybe) I'll come back to this 'verse one day but for sure not any time soon. I'd like to see Victor's reaction to Cas, though.

A really big Thank You to all of you who have followed Victor's journey with me, you are awesome.

My next story **Fellowship of the Nine** will start on Saturday, so if you like outsider POV, Stanford friends, lots of wrong assumptions and awesome Winchesters hop in.


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